How to Hit Rock Bottom
by NeoNails
Summary: Warren/ Layla. No one's life is perfectly normal, and Layla's no exception to that rule, especially when things start going downhill. Will things start looking up or will she hit rock bottom?
1. Prologue: It's Raining Man

I'm going to try my second shot at a chaptered _Sky High_ fanfic, only this time I'm actually going to plan ahead, because I am recognizing that this is going to be _chaptered_.

Here's hoping.

But, because I'm writing this in the NORMAL fanfiction way (i.e., I haven't finished writing all of my chapters but I'm posting Ch. 1 anyway), this means I won't be posting as regularly as I did with _Breaking Hearts_. It also means I could run out of inspiration midway through and go on a three month hiatus. But think of it this way- I'm just building up suspense for you guys!

...Ha.

4

_I could try to forget what you do  
__When I let you get  
__Through to me but then  
__You do it over again  
__I could rage like a fire  
__And you'd bring the rain I desire  
_'_Til you get to me on my Morningside._

"Morningside," Sara Bareilles

* * *

When Layla Williams had a bad day, her solution to the problem was to take a nice, long, hot shower. And she had had a bad day. This meant that as soon as she stepped off of the bus and walked into her house, she headed straight for her bathroom.

She tossed her purse and bookbag on the ground in the hallway and began stripping, shutting the bathroom door behind her. Turning the hot faucet knob all the way and the cold faucet knob only a quarter of the way, she flicked on the shower switch, she shimmied out of her jeans and tossed them in the same pile as her shirt, shoes, and socks. She pulled the elastic out of her hair and combed her fingers through it, shaking it out of the braid she'd set it in at the beginning of the day.

She pulled the shower curtain to completely cover the shower and stepped out of her panties and bra, tossing them in the same direction as the rest of her clothing, and stepping into the shower.

Tilting her head back, she let the hot water hit her face as she stepped under the spray of the water. Without meaning to, she let out a soft sigh of relief. Her day had gone from bad to worse to absolute rock-bottom. This hot shower was just what she needed to wipe away her shitty day. Oh, who was she kidding? Sighing to herself, she knew she had to admit it at some point. She hadn't had a genuinely good day in nearly a month. It was getting to the point that even hot showers weren't fixing her problems.

She ran her fingers through the wet, dark red ropes of hair, which were already beginning to curl slightly under steam of the hot water. After two years of letting her hair grow out, it had reached midway down her back. Trying to forget her troubles, she lifted up 

the ends of her hair and realized she was probably in need of a trim in the near future- she didn't need to add split ends to the list of her problems, too.

And was this a long list of problems. None of which she would be able to fix in the near future. For only being a junior in high school, she had an awfully demanding life. It was beginning to take its toll on her.

Squirting a quarter-sized drop of shampoo into her hand, she considered her options. This could all be fixed… eventually. They all just needed time to sort everything out, herself included. High school years were notorious for being some of the most confusing of your life, and Layla found it was twice as worse if you were a teen with superpowers to boot.

Lathering up her hair with the shampoo, she shut her eyes, going over everything that had happened since that fateful night. If she was to pinpoint exactly when her life had begun to go downhill, she would trace it all back to that day. Since then, absolutely nothing had gone right.

As the water washed away the last traces of the shampoo, Layla reached for her cream-rinse conditioner, squeezing out a dollop into her palm. It was a must-have for curly hair like her own. Curly hair meant tangled hair, and conditioner kept it from turning into a rat's nest.

Layla worked the conditioner through her hair, wincing as she accidentally brushed the still tender wound at the base of her skull. By now, the ugly welt had to have turned into a bruise, most likely still purple. She didn't bruise easily, but when she did, it was never pretty and it always lasted a while.

For instance, the hand-shaped bruise on her upper arm was only just beginning to fade, turning a sickening yellowish-green. She had got that bruise over two weeks ago, and it most likely wouldn't fade away completely until another week, at least.

She used her favorite 100-percent recycled loofah to wash the rest of her body, being extra gentle with the deep cut on her calf that had become a scab. It didn't hurt as much as the bruises, but if she stretched her leg too much it would sting.

She wasn't really all that banged up. Just a couple of nicks here and there; nothing permanent. At the moment, what was more important to her now was keeping her friends safe and healthy. Her own health could be put on the backburner for a short time.

Layla turned back to the showerhead, closing her eyes once more as the water cascaded all around her. The longer she stood there, the less it felt like she was in Maxville, loaded down with troubles and unanswered questions. Instead, if she stopped thinking and 

worrying, it felt almost as if she was standing in the Amazon rain forest, surrounded by brightly colored frogs and big-eyed animals and every kind of plant imaginable.

It was a really nice place when she stopped thinking.

But, as all dreams must come to an eventual end, Layla twisted the hot and cold knobs off turning the gushing shower to a weak trickle. She pushed the shower curtain open, wiping the water off of her face with her wet hands. She reached across the narrow room and grabbed a towel, goosebumps pebbling her naked body as her warm skin hit the cold air.

She used the towel to squeeze out the remaining water in her hair, then quickly towel-dried it. It was quicker if she blow-dried her hair, but she didn't feel like wasting her energy- not to mention electricity. She wrapped the thick, coffee-colored towel around her body and stepped out of the bathtub. The hot shower had done her some good. She could feel the stress from earlier today begin to seep out of her body, giving her the chance to finally relax.

She didn't bring an extra set of underwear, let alone clothes, into the bathroom with her, but she wasn't entirely ready to change just yet.

Towel-drying the rest of her body, Layla suddenly remembered she had also forgotten to bring her favorite lotion with her into the bathroom. Groaning aloud, she finished wiping down her body and wrapped herself in the towel once more.

She opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom, shivering as her body came into contact with the much cooler air. She padded down the hallway, the plush carpet under her feet muffling her steps, and she was grateful for the silence. Her mother was away until Monday morning, which meant Layla had one less thing to deal with.

Slipping into her room, she grabbed the bottle of honey and lotus blossom lotion from off the top of her dresser and turned to walk back to the bathroom. When she did, she heard something that stopped her dead in her tracks. She wasn't even sure what she heard, but it was enough to make her pause.

Her adrenaline spiked when she heard it again, and this time she realized it was coming from the direction of her living room. She walked slowly down hallway, heart pounding, prepared for the slightest sound of attack.

Even with all of her preparation, she never could've planned for what greeted her as she stepped cautiously into the living room. Bruised and bleeding profusely on her couch, covered from head to toe in dirt and grime- and was that slime?- was none other than…

"Oh, don't get dressed up on my account, hippie."

Layla let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Warren."

4

It's not much- it's really short, in fact- but I think it's an okay start for a prologue. As far as I'm aware, I will most likely be bouncing back and forth between a month prior to Warren getting his ass kicked and then presently, what's happening after Warren got his ass kicked.

I might bounce back and forth, past one chapter then present the next, or I might bounce all around with no specific pattern. But no matter what, I'll make sure that you guys know whether it's past or present, I promise.


	2. Home Isn't Where the Heart Is

I'm kind of surprised that I'm thinking this up so quickly, but I am, so I'm not going to stop now.

As a warning, though, I should mention that these chapters might be pretty long. At least, longer than the chapters in _Breaking Hearts & Making Changes_. But, then again, I have a feeling this will be more serious than my first chaptered _Sky High_ fanfic.

Anyway…. On to Chapter 1!

4

_Help me but don't tell me to deny it  
__I gotta cleanse myself of all these 'til I'm good enough for him  
__I got a lot to loose and I'm bettin' high so I'm beggin' you  
__Before it ends just tell me where to begin._

"Criminal," Fiona Apple

_**2 Months Earlier…**_

Layla loved her friends like they were her family. This was no secret.

The real secret was that her family wasn't much to love. Few people had an idea of the mess that were the Williams, and no one knew the full details. If she was going to be totally honest with herself, she would have to admit that she went out of her way to make sure that no one knew the full details.

That didn't mean she was willing to spend all of her free time at her house. She wasn't looking for trouble; she was trying to prevent it.

This just meant, whenever her family life was getting hairy, she would pack up her brother's and sister's things and send them over to their friends' houses, for an impromptu 'sleepover.' From there, she'd head over to Will's house and make them dinner. Or she'd call Magenta to check that the girl wasn't 'hanging out' with her boyfriend and they'd go to the mall. Sometimes she would take her brother and sister to the movies, just to avoid staying at home for long periods of time.

Her _entire_ family wasn't screwed up. Her grandparents (on both sides) were very nice, as was her Aunt Allie on her dad's side and her Uncle Tom and Aunt Fawn on her mother's side. And her parents (individually) were nice enough. It was when they were together that trouble began to brew.

Ah, who was she kidding? It wasn't that trouble brewed- _chaos_ erupted! Her parents were physiologically incapable of being nice to one another. They would have screaming matches, right in the middle of the living room. Sometimes they would be short fights, but other times they would get long and messy, which was when Layla picked up the phone. She didn't want her baby brother and sister to have to see them. Hell, she was a junior in high school and _she_ didn't want to see them.

Layla didn't always know when her parents were fighting, especially if she was just coming home after a day spent with her friends. This meant, over the years, she had gotten very good at paying attention to when her parents _were_ fighting, and then mentally charting out when they would be most likely to fight again. To date, her chart was pretty accurate.

For the first two days, they would have small fights leading up to the 'big' one, which usually happened the following day. After the big blowup, the house would be silent for about the next three days. The first day was when they would give one another the silent treatment for around a day and a half, then the rest of the second day would be spent in guilt-ridden silence. By the third day, they would have apologized, and it would 'happy' silence. Then they would start to repeat the cycle by the next day, sometimes even in the same night.

Layla had this system memorized backwards and forwards. She wouldn't let anyone visit her house unless she had notice a week or more in advance and had ample time to plan out her parents' tiffs.

She did still try to have a normal social life, despite it all. She had been dating Will Stronghold since their freshman year, she had a best female friend, Magenta Daniels, and a best guy friend, Warren Peace. She was good friends with Ethan Sann, and Magenta's boyfriend, Zach Thompson. She was acquaintances with a few kids in Hero Support, as well as a few on the Hero track.

None of them knew the full story behind her family.

She liked to keep it that way.

**

* * *

**

It was early December, and a Friday, which meant she liked to stop by the Paper Lantern, order a plate of Chinese food, and keep Warren company while he worked the night shift. Then, after he helped close up, he would walk her back to her house. It sounded more romantic than it actually was.

Yesterday, her parents had had their big fight for the week. This meant, for the most part, the house would be quiet. If she wanted to, she might even be able to invite Warren over for coffee and to hang out with her siblings. It wouldn't be the first time. Layla liked talking to Warren. She loved Will, but he wasn't very articulate, especially when it came to the environment and politics.

"Face it, Warren," she said, exasperated. This was the third time he'd tried to teach her some basic Mandarin. She knew 'boy,' and she knew 'girl,' but after that, it got confusing. "I'm just no good with languages, unlike you. I don't think I'll ever be."

"It's really not that hard, hippie," he said, gallantly holding the picket-fence door open for her so they could walk up the little stone-covered path to her house. Yes, her house had a picket fence, just to prove how much of a sham her family _really_ was.

"No," she said, a smile lighting up her features. "It's not that hard for _you_. For those of us mere mortals, grasping one of the most difficult languages- with the exception of our own- isn't that small of a task."

"If you stop thinking about it so much, it'll be easier for you to grasp," Warren said, rubbing his arms to create circulation. "Though it'd be easier for me to teach you if it wasn't so friggin' cold."

Layla snickered, unwrapping her blue and green wool scarf (her sister had knitted it for her last Christmas) and wrapped the scarf around Warren's neck, standing on one of the front porch steps so she could make eye contact with him. "It's only December 6th," she told him, using a clipped, business tone. "It's going to get a lot colder from here. Though, I'd suggest wearing a jacket in the future."

He glared at her pointedly. She was right, though. He had left the Paper Lantern with her, only wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, and his prerequisite black boots. A normal person would've been frozen solid on a cold night in December, but not Warren.

"That's one positive with being a pyro," he said, purposefully flippant as he stepped onto her front porch, keeping his back to her, "You have the ability to knock internal body temperature up ten or twenty degrees."

"Oh, don't we think we're so hot," Layla replied, stepping onto the front porch.

Warren turned around slowly, one eyebrow raised very pointedly. Layla rolled her eyes, she said, "You know what I mean." She walked forward, expecting him to move out of the way so she could unlock her front door, but he didn't. This left her standing her very close to him, staring up into his inky black eyes. Her smile disappeared, and she blinked up at him with big brown eyes.

For the record, this wasn't the first time she was faced with a very awkward situation with Warren. Stuff like this had been happening more and more often in the past few months. She tried not to think about it, but sometimes it was hard.

Luckily, there was a loud crash came from inside her house. Warren jumped out of the way, and Layla staggered forward, avoiding eye contact with him. Their most recent awkward moment was all but forgotten. Crashes did not bode well in her house. Unlocking her front door and turning the knob, she weighed her options. Either her brother or sister had accidentally broken something and were about to get chewed out, or…

"Oh, that's so like you to bring that up again! You can never let anything go!"

"HA! Because you're much better! You're just an underhanded, conniving bi-"

Layla closed the front door, shutting her eyes. She didn't see anything, but she didn't need to. Ah, hell, she didn't want to. Slowly, she turned back to face Warren, knowing full-well that he heard every word. He was one of her best friends, and she was hoping he was never going to have to see this.

"Do you need… help?" he asked, his voice slow and cautious. She knew that tone. He didn't know exactly what the hell was going on, but he knew he had to ask and try to help. If he could. But he couldn't, and she wasn't going to let him try, anyway.

"No," Layla replied, staring at the ground. "Do you… do you mind if we took just… walked a little longer? Just another block or so, that's all."

Warren steered her towards the picket fence, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. "It's no problem, Layla," he told her, walking down the porch steps.

It didn't escape her that he chose this moment to call her by her real name, instead of his personal nickname of 'hippie,' but she was too upset to care. She didn't say anything as they walked, but she knew it was about time she explained herself. Warren was a good enough friend that he would let it drop if she asked him to, but he didn't deserve that.

As they walked out fenced house and onto the sidewalk, Layla tilted her head up to look at him. "Listen, Warren," she began, talking softly.

"Fine, you want me gone?! I'm gone!"

Layla was almost afraid to turn around, but she did anyway. Her father, Thomas Williams, Citizen (he was a lawyer), pounded down the steps, clutching a hastily packed suitcase in one hand. He spun around sharply and bellowed, "You'll never be able to do shit without me! All you're ever good for is that useless animal shelter! You won't be able to pay for this goddamned house without _my _paychecks!"

Her mother, Clover Williams, ran out onto the front porch, her long red hair flying behind her like a cape. "Go to hell, you rat bastard!"

Layla watched in silent horror from the sidewalk, unable to believe what was actually going on in full public. It was completely humiliating.

Her father stormed past the picket fence and didn't even give the two of them a second glance. She felt like she had been punched in the gut, and then kicked while she was down. Her father couldn't be bothered to so much as recognize his oldest daughter. Sure, she was standing on the sidewalk with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, and she was standing next to a good-looking six-foot tall guy in a short sleeved t-shirt in early December. Warren didn't stick out so much anymore, because he stopped wearing so much black and cut his hair short, but that wasn't important.

She watched mutely as her father stormed past them, wrenching open his car door, slamming the door shut, and then peeling out of their driveway without another word.

Her mother had already run back into the house and shut the door closed behind her, which just left Layla and Warren. Blinking back tears, she turned her head and began to walk down the block. Warren, for his part, didn't miss a beat, keeping his arm wrapped around her protectively as they continued their trek.

She made it about as far as the next block before she felt the tears begin to sting the corners of her eyes, as well as a lump that lodged itself in her throat. She used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away the unshed tears.

"So… does Stronghold know anything about this?" Warren asked.

Layla smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "He doesn't know everything," she said, pushing a stray lock of coppery red hair out of her face. "But he has a good idea what's going on."

Warren didn't say anything, just kept walking and staring blankly ahead, so she took that as her cue to keep talking. "Magenta has a general idea of my family life, too, but the only one who knows nearly all of the truth is Will's mom, Josie." Layla leaned closer to him, grateful for the warmth. He was like a walking radiator- not that she'd ever tell him that.

"Josie and my mom have been best friends since all the way back when they went to Sky High. There were a few times when my mom accidentally let some things slip after too many glasses of wine. I don't think she ever told her the gory details, but Josie's smart. I think she filled in the gaps on her own."

They turned down to another street, and Layla wrapped her arms around herself, still trying not to cry. "In fact, a few years back, she even offered to let my brother, sister, and I stay over at their house if things ever get really crazy, but I don't know how she'll be now that I'm dating Will. Wouldn't want anything inappropriate to happen."

Warren chuckled, but didn't say anything more.

This was going to be the hard part. Shutting her eyes, Layla continued, "I know it must sound callous, but the only reason why I want to go back to that house is to check on my brother and sister and make sure they're okay. If I didn't have the two of them… well, let's just say I wouldn't still be living with my parents." She said the last part with a sort of half-gasp, and she felt the first few tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.

"Why don't your parents get a divorce?" Warren asked, finally speaking up. He stopped walking and pulled her even closer, so she was almost face to face with him.

Layla snorted in disgust and said, "Oh, that's just a testament to how screwed up they are. They'd rather stay together in a doomed marriage, inadvertently terrorizing their own children by screaming at one another, then get a divorce like a normal couple."

She laughed bitterly under her breath, wiping away fresh tears from her eyes. "I wish they would get a divorce," she whispered under her breath. "Then they could leave us the hell alone and I could take care of Danny and Rose on my own."

Warren wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her close, and Layla started sobbing into his shoulder. She could tell he was uncomfortable, and didn't know how to handle the situation, but she was too upset at this point to try and stem the flow of tears.

And he was better than Will. The poor guy had absolutely no idea how to properly comfort a crying female, so the two or three times she got emotional enough to cry around him (they usually involved conversations about her family), all he would do was awkwardly pat her shoulder and tell her, "Everything's going to be alright."

He tried, and that was all that counts.

When Layla finally got enough of her wits together to stop crying so much, she lifted her cheek from Warren's shoulder and wiped her puffy eyes. "I'm sorry I loaded all of this on you," she said, her voice barely a hoarse whisper from all of the crying.

Warren shrugged slightly and tried to look unaffected. "It's understandable," he said, "I felt the same way before my mom divorced my dad. I knew it would be best if she divorced him, but it took her five years before she finally figured that out for herself. Sometimes people need to come to conclusions on their own time."

Layla wiped her eyes and nose with the long sleeve of her sweater, and sniffled out a feeble laugh. "My parents are so wrapped up in their own problems, they'll never realize that divorce is the right option, even five years from now."

She stepped back abruptly, breaking out of Warren's comforting embrace. Frankly, she wanted to run right back to the warmth and security he had to offer, but she was a big girl and she needed to man up. Wait. That wasn't right…

"But that's not _my_ problem," she said, trying to act authoritative and in control when she was feeling anything but. "_My_ problem is that I have a possibly terrified younger brother and sister back at my house who need their big sister. I may have sucky parents, but I refuse to be a sucky big sister."

Warren grinned wryly. "Well, we can't let them down," he said, grabbing her arm and steering her around so they were heading back to her house. "Let's get you back to your brother and sister. You think you're ready to go back?"

Nodding, Layla gave him what she hoped was a brave smile. "Yeah, I am," she said, "And thanks for always walking me home, Warren. And for listening to my breakdown. I'm sorry you had to see this."

"Hey, better me than you finally snapping in the middle of a McDonald's and strangling half a dozen customers with vines."

Layla stopped and stared at him in disgust. "Why would I _ever_ be in a McDonald's? I like my body the way it is- in other words, healthy and fit."

"Why aren't you denying the snapping and strangling a bunch of strangers part?" he said, mirroring her look.

She tilted her head, pretending to consider the idea, but ending up breaking out into giggles after only a few seconds. They continued walking, and Layla actually found herself still smiling. Really, thank God for her friends. Without them, she probably would go crazy and kill a bunch of people. Her parents just generated that much frustration and anger in her.

It would be so much easier if she could get a divorce from her parents, like those snotty teen movie stars do whenever their parents empty out their bank accounts. It would be perfect, really. Next month she would be seventeen, and a year after that she would be eighteen, which meant she could be a legal caretaker for her brother and sister.

She would love to adopt Danny and Rose as her own. That way they might actually have a chance of having a normal childhood and be a real family. And she wanted them to be a real family.

Before she knew it, they were back to her house, standing on her front porch. Layla turned to Warren, and smiled weakly once more. "Thank you so much for putting up with all of this," she said.

"What are you talking about, hippie?" he said, smirking. It was good to know he was back to calling her by her favorite nickname. "I'm not leaving you alone yet. I'm making sure you people are all okay."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Don't bother," he said, effectively cutting her off. "My mom is in California for the rest of the weekend, doing super work. I can afford to waste some time at your house."

Layla grinned up at him. "You're a great friend, you know that?" she said, pulling out her set of keys. She unlocked the door, closed her eyes, and hoped for the best. She opened the door slowly, cautiously listening for any sign of trouble. Amazingly, her house was… silent.

Stepping into the house, she looked around suspiciously. Her father made her mother get rid of the three dogs, five cats, two hamsters, and three reptiles and send them back to Animal Safe Haven, the place where her mother worked/volunteered nearly all of her spare time that wasn't taken up doing super work. This happened a few weeks ago, and Layla was still adjusting to the change in volume.

But it got weirder from there. There was no sign of her mother- when angry, her mother had a tendency to bang around the house, slamming doors and stomping around, similar to a five-year-old. Scarier still was the fact that she couldn't hear her brother or sister. That was much more alarming then anything involving her mother.

Layla eyebrows furrowed as she walked into the house, Warren following close behind her. She stopped in the middle of the room, surveying the landscape. The living room was to her right, and the entranceway into the kitchen was to her left. In front of her was the stairway that led into the house's four rooms, as well as the second bathroom (the first was in her parents' master bedroom, though God only knew why her parents still slept in the same room together). Staring up at the stairs, she finally heard something. It was faint, and it was coming from upstairs, but it was something.

She ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The noise was still faint, but it was definitely coming from one of the rooms. Without thinking, she turned the knob, opening her bedroom door.

Sure enough, her brother was holding her sister tight to his chest, the two of them sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of her bed. Rose was sobbing openly, but quietly. Danny wasn't crying yet, but he looked like he wasn't far away from doing so.

When he noticed his big sister standing in the doorway, he finally began to break down. Layla staggered into the room, tripping over a pair of sandals that lay on the floor in her haste to get to her siblings. She dropped to her knees and pulled the two of them close to her, hugging them tightly.

"It was horrible, Layla!" Rose said through soft sobs, burrowing her face into the redhead's jacket. "They were fighting for over an hour, and then Daddy just walked out! Then Mommy started drinking and she left, too!"

It felt like Layla's brain had just imploded. "She… _left_ you two? Alone?! In the house?! _By yourself?!_"

Danny glanced up at his sister, tears making fast tracks down his cheeks and nodded slowly. "She didn't say anything, either," he said, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand. "She just downed half a bottle of vodka, grabbed her purse, and walked out of the house."

Layla remembered reading books where the character was so shocked he or she was actually rendered speechless. She always figured that was just an expression, and that never actually happened to anyone, but tonight she was proven wrong. She was so angry with her mother that she could not speak. She was just that friggin' pissed.

It took several minutes for Layla to collect her thoughts and finally regain the ability to speak. "C'mon," she said, wiping under her eyes quickly with her free hand as she pulled them up to stand. She didn't want to look like she had been crying, too. "Enough of this moping. We're going to go downstairs and watch a few movies. You can each pick one, and will watch them back to back tonight, 'kay?"

Rose's bottom lip was still trembling, but the tears weren't coming out quite so fast. "B-b-but-" she said.

"No buts," Layla said. "Now march your butts downstairs or I won't make your favorite hydrogenated-fat loaded popcorn. I'll only make my healthy, all natural popcorn."

Danny grinned and wrapped an arm around Rose, gently leading her towards the door. He stopped short when he saw who was in the doorway.

Layla nearly groaned in aggravation. She was so busy alternately comforting her siblings and contemplating her mother's murder, she had completely forgotten about Warren. The pyro in question was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His eyebrows raised slightly when she made eye contact with him.

"Guys, this is Warren," she said, giving them her best smile. "I think you've might've met him once, Rose. He's a friend of mine, as well as Will's best friend." The last part wasn't really necessary, but she knew Danny idolized Will, so anyone Will liked Danny would like.

Danny turned back to her. "I thought you were still dating Will," he said, but she could hear the undercurrent of concern in his voice.

"I am," she assured him, pushing her siblings towards the door. Warren stepped out of the doorway, a small, almost nonexistent, smile still tugging up the corners of his lips.

The four of them paraded downstairs, Warren bringing up the rear. Judging by his stoic expression, he was still processing everything that had happened in the last half hour. She didn't blame him. No one deserved to have this load of crap dumped on them in only one day.

Warren sat down on the large couch, watching mutely as Rose and Danny picked from a small arsenal of DVDs that were neatly stacked across their oak entertainment center. After a moment's hesitation, Layla sighed and collapsed on the couch next to him, tilting her head to rest on the back of the couch.

"This is why the Gods invented Excedrin," Layla said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Make that Excedrin Extra Strength."

Warren merely grunted in agreement, but she was thankful for the lack of conversation. It was almost 10:30, and she was always wiped after dealing with the emotional upheaval that was her family. She was wiped.

Once the movies were picked, it was determined that Rose, the youngest, (Rose had turned 12 in late November, while Danny would be celebrating his 14th birthday in May) would play her movie first. The two squeezed in the couch, Rose sitting next to her big sister with Danny on her other side.

Layla never ended up making popcorn for the four of them. In fact, by the time the first movie's beginning credits finished rolling, she was already starting to doze off.

Right before she did succumb to glorious sleep, she leaned her head on Warren's shoulder. _I owe him big_, she thought as darkness finally closed around her and she was able to drift off into beautiful, glorious sleep.

4

And this is where we're ending Ch. 1, folks! I can't say I'm not impressed with this one. It took me a little longer than usual to churn out, what with how long it is (double the length of a _Breaking Hearts_ chapter), and the fact that I went to Baltimore for a couple of days this past week.

I will be starting Ch. 2 tomorrow morning, after several hours of sleep (it is currently 12:55 right now- A.M., not P.M.). I have determined that I will be bouncing back and forth in a semi-organized pattern (I already have up to, like, Ch. 7 plotted out in my brain). This means that Ch. 2 will start off where the Prologue left off, and will (hopefully) start to answer some of your questions. ;)


	3. Hippie vs Hothead: Round 1

I think I made a little mistake with the layout of the house in the Prologue compared to Chapter 1. I'll have it fixed, don't worry.

4

_Every time I try to walk away  
__You pull me back with all those things you say  
__And I find myself unable to leave  
__Do you have a clue to what you are doing to me?_

- "Coming Back In," by Toby Lightman

* * *

**Present Time**

"I seriously can't believe you! What would _possibly_ possess you to get into yet _another_ fight with this guy?!" Layla shouted. She had been raging on this vein for almost ten minutes straight, and showed no signs of stopping. She didn't even stop when she stormed upstairs and back into the bathroom. At the moment, she was on her hands and knees, tearing through the bathroom counter drawers, searching for the first aid kit they kept… somewhere. "When are you going to get it into your _thick skull_ that you have to avoid him?! When you're dead?!"

Layla found the first aid kit she'd been looking for, but that didn't improve her mood any. She growled through her teeth, slamming the drawer shut and standing up. She adjusted the towel she still had wrapped around her body, making sure it was secure.

The only way anyone could describe her mindset was seething. She stomped down the stairs, clutching the first aid kit in her hand and trying to resist the urge to throw it at his head.

"Why can't you just let things go?" she asked. Her tone had faltered dramatically when she was finally downstairs and making eye contact with Warren. In fact, it was like all of the anger had been sucked out of her, and now she just sounded… helpless. And frustrated. And desperate.

Warren tried to sit up, grimacing in pain as he did. "I don't need a med kit. Just give me a few minutes. My scrapes'll disappear by then." He stopped moving and let his head drop on the couch's armrest.

"Tell that to your clothes," she said, tossing the first aid kit on the coffee table and sitting down on the low table. She sighed, staring pointedly at how he was draped across her couch. "And my sofa."

Warren looked down at where he was lying, and how most of the dirt, grime, and general icky-ness that had accumulated on his jacket, jeans, shoes, and shirt and was now transferring itself on Layla's couch. "Oh," he said with a grunt. "Sorry."

Layla sighed once more, tugging at the bottom hem of her towel and crossed her ankles. The logical part of her brain recognized that it would probably be smart to change into something more appropriate, but a bigger part of her wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Just give me a second to heal," Warren said, shifting so the pillow he was sitting under was positioned comfortably behind him. "Then I can get off your couch and change."

It sounded bizarre, and it was, but Layla had kept a spare set of clothing for Will at her house since middle school. After befriending Warren and becoming best friends with Magenta, it was updated that she always kept at least three sets of clothing on hand for each person. They had proven to be quite useful over the years.

"I never asked you about how you heal," she said, her voice soft. Her eyebrows furrowed together slightly as she tried to recall any situation where this conversation might have been brought up. "Is it painful?"

Warren was silent for a few minutes. Keeping his eyes shut and jaw clenched slightly, he said, "Not really. If I break a bone, it still hurts like a bitch, and I still need to reset it like anyone else. It'll just heal about twice as fast, sometimes more. It's nothing creepy, like that dude in that _X-Men_ movie. My skin can't regrow in a matter of seconds. I just heal faster, and it takes _a lot_ for me to get seriously injured. Which helps when you're creating fire that engulfs your entire hand."

"Or Will's throwing you against a cafeteria wall," Layla said, pushing her damp red hair over to one shoulder and smirking. She was referencing her freshman year, the first (and, luckily, last) fight Will and Warren had. It was also the same day and fight that Will finally got his superpowers.

"That wasn't a fun day," he said, glancing over at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "At least today was more entertaining."

Layla stood up, grabbing a tortoiseshell off of the coffee table and clipped up her wet hair. Glaring down at him, she said dryly, "Define 'entertaining.'"

Warren grinned lopsidedly and tilted his head up to stare at her. "I wasn't aware how skilled he was at hand-to-hand combat until today," he said. His grin widened as he added, "Then again, I don't think he was aware how skilled _I_ was at hand-to-hand combat."

Layla rolled her eyes and walked away from the couch, shaking her head slowly with each step. Behind her, Warren asked, "Not that I'm complaining at all, but aren't you going to change out of your… towel?"

She walked into the kitchen and opened the Sub-Zero fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. "I plan on changing as soon as you tell me what happened," she said, twisting off the bottle's cap.

"Ah."

She took a swig from the water bottle, then set it down on the countertop and asked, "Speaking of, when do you intend on telling me about your most recent tete-a-tete?"

Warren was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "Not for another hour or two. Maybe more."

Layla rolled her eyes. "Oh, very mature."

She knew he was flashing her his signature smirk, but she refused to look in his direction. She wasn't going to encourage him.

"Hey, hippie, where are your brother and sister? Shouldn't they be getting home soon?" Warren asked, randomly switching gears.

"Rose has a group project due in Health class, so she's at her friend's house working on it," Layla said, taking another swig of water before continuing. "And Danny's on an intramural soccer team. He heads over to the Maxville Rec Center as soon as school lets out."

"He's going to be a freshman next year, right?"

Layla's eyebrows furrowed together. Did Warren get a concussion? Oh, he was always nice to her brother and sister, especially after he found out about their… parentage, but he never went out of his way to learn more about them.

"Yeah, he'll be a freshman when I'm a senior," she said, turning to face the living room and the back of the couch, where Warren was still slumped. "And then Rose will be a freshman when he's a junior."

"He get his powers yet?" Warren asked, looking over the back of the couch to make eye contact with her.

Almost instantaneously, a proud, goofy grin broke out across Layla's face. "Yes, he did," she said. "He got his powers last week. He was so excited. You know Larry, right? Well, his powers are sort of like Larry's. Only he can turn into this big tree-type person-thing. He can grow really big and tall, and shoot these huge chunks of splinters- he accidentally impaled one of the lawn chairs in the back yard."

Layla glanced over at the refrigerator, automatically finding her favorite photo, held up by a little butterfly magnet. It was taken over a year ago, when the carnival came to Maxville. Will took her, Danny, and Rose the first day it opened. The photo was taken in front of the Ferris wheel, with Danny and Rose each holding a giant stuffed animal that Will had won for them. That was one of the happiest days of her life.

She felt her heart tighten, just a little bit, when she saw Will. Things had gotten so complicated, so fast. Now she wasn't even sure where she stood.

"Rose was like me," she said, her voice soft. She wasn't even sure if Warren could hear her, but she didn't care. "Like all the superwomen in my family, actually. She got her powers when she was very young- not as young as me, but pretty damn young. She was in the third grade when it happened. She can morph into any animal at will. It's pretty impressive."

Warren snorted. "Wow," he said, "A house full of Heroes."

Layla gave him an odd glance. "I'm not a Hero," she said slowly, as if to jog his memory.

"No," Warren replied, talking just as slowly, mocking her. "But you _could've_ been a Hero, easy. You just choose not to support a flawed system."

Frowning sourly, she walked over to the living room and said, "You know, it's rude to make fun of other people's personal and emotional choices."

"Whatever you say, hippie," he replied, swinging his feet to rest on the carpet and sitting up.

Layla walked around to face him and asked with saccharine sweetness, "Feel better?"

Warren grunted. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good," she said, leaning down to flick the shell of his ear.

"Ow!" Warren snapped. "What was that for?"

"That was for being rude," she told him, putting on her most superior attitude. "And you deserved it, you big baby."

"No one asked you, hippie."

"Quiet, hothead."

With some difficulty, Warren stood up, leaving Layla little room between her and the coffee table. However, she didn't back down, even though he was clearly trying to intimidate her by towering over her.

"What did you say?" he asked, effortlessly making the question sound like less of a question and more of a threat.

Layla narrowed her eyes, smiling up at him triumphantly. "You heard me," she said.

"Hippie."

"Hothead."

They glared one another down for several seconds, then Layla popped her hip, put her hand on her waist, and said, "I'm not going to back down."

"What made you think I'm going to?" he asked, incredulity slipping into his tone.

They continued to glare at one another for another couple beats, then Layla straightened up and crossed her arms over chest. Warren still hadn't budged an inch.

Finally, Layla broke the stare-down by rolling her eyes and looking away. "Okay," she said, "This is completely pointless. This is why I think fighting is stupid. By the end of the fight, all you've done is waste time."

There it was again. The patented Signature Smirk. "And what if wasting time was all part of the plan?" he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

Layla stared up at him in confusion for half a beat, then realization sank in and the stare turned into a glare. "You ass," she snapped, smacking his arm. "Stop stalling and distracting me and tell me what happened!"

Warren snickered and sat back down on the couch. "I think I like distracting you more," he said.

"Yeah, well, knock it off," she said, rolling her eyes yet again as she plopped down on the coffee table, right back to where she started. "And spill."

4

Sorry to leave you with a little cliffhanger! I didn't really want to, but I'm only planning on revealing so much when I write a Present Time chapter, because I want to lead up to make references to what will be introduced/explained in the following chapter. I swear, it makes sense in my head.

The current Present Time chapters (if you haven't noticed) are much shorter than the Past chapters. This is also because I'm only willing to reveal so much information, mostly just to keep you guys curious, but also because I planned it this way. Kinda.

If it makes y'all feel better, I'm about 95-percent sure the next chapter will be even longer than Chapter 1, simply because there'll be a lot going on in the Williams' household and (hint, hint) one more introduction will be made. Trust me, it'll be the last O.C., as far as I'm aware. And, like Danny and Rose, he'll be pretty damn important to the storyline.

Yet again, I'm staying up at odd hours again in order to complete and post a chapter. In other words, I'm losing sleep for you guys! Be grateful!

Yeah, right. ;)


	4. Breakfast & Bad Guys

I just wanted to tell you guys, I've had this first scene in my head before I had even started writing Ch. 1. I hope you guys will love it as much as I did.

4

_So take me away!  
_'_Cuz I don't wanna be there  
__I should learn to speak up  
__And I'm wanting out._

- "Wanting Out," by Michelle Branch

* * *

Layla stretched her neck, rubbing her tired eyes. Next to her, she felt Rose shift. Her little sister had fallen onto her lap at one point, and was clutching a sofa pillow in her sleep. Next to Rose, Danny was slumped over on the armrest, snoring softly.

Smiling, Layla glanced over at the other side of the couch- and her smile disappeared. There was a large gap where one pyro best friend had _once_ sat, but now clearly had vacated the area. Considering the events from the day before, it was understandable that he would want to hightail it out of there. Hell, it was amazing that he stayed overnight at all. She had no right to feel disappointed, even if she kind of was.

He was a good friend. She was just messed up.

Moving as slowly as physically possible, Layla extracted herself from her sister's grip and got up from the couch. Luckily for her, both of her siblings were heavy sleepers, so neither one of them so much as flinched.

She glanced at the clock they kept over the TV and did a double-take. It was 10:12?! She never slept this late! This was _so_ not good…

Layla headed over to the kitchen, and stopped in her tracks. There was food on the table. She was the only one who cooked in the family. Her mother couldn't boil water (and also didn't like to cook, simply for the fact that most recipes involve the use of dead animals), and her father's idea of eating in was to order take-out.

Stepping forward cautiously, she stopped once more once the full kitchen came into view. Warren… was in her kitchen… cooking. She felt like her brain had just imploded.

"Uhh… Warren?" she asked softly, staring at the kitchen table, which was weighed down with several pounds of freshly cooked food. "What are we, umm, making?"

Warren glanced over at her and nodded in hello. "You didn't have a whole lot in your kitchen, but I made bacon, some kind of nasty tofu bacon, pancakes, chocolate chip pancakes, real bacon cheese omelets, and a broccoli and cheese omelet- I can't swear by that one, though, but I know you won't eat any kind of meat."

She smiled, leaning against the refrigerator for support. "You really didn't have to do all of this," she said, rubbing her bare arms. She was only in a yellow tank top and a pair of slightly baggy jeans. She was cold and still sleepy, and the idea of Warren cooking for her family was a little too early in the morning to properly process. True, she was a morning person, but she wasn't used to sleeping on the couch.

"It's no big deal, hippie," he said, turning back to the oven and flipping one of the pancakes on the frying pan.

Layla shook her head, and then ran her fingers through her messy red hair. She winced when her fingers caught on a few knots, and knew it must've looked like hell. "It is kind of a big deal, Warren," she said, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. "Which is why I'm really grateful."

Warren just grunted in response. She knew it was an automatic response for him. He was pretty bad when it came to dealing with compliments. Anymore, if he didn't react that way, she'd probably be concerned.

"I'm going to call Will in a little bit," Layla said, wiping under eyes, and hoped she had removed any smudges of eyeliner or mascara residue. "I figure I can take them to the movies and out to lunch. Anything to avoid this house."

Turning back to face her, he grimaced and said, "Well, I hate to be the one to admit this, but I was already thinking along the same lines. I called Will to set up something similar, and he called the rest of them- Magenta, Zach, and Ethan. They're coming over around 11:30."

Stunned into silence, all she found she could do was blink at him. That was… helpful. One less thing for her to do, not to mention there would be plenty of her friends around if she had to deal with Gigantic Disaster: The Sequel. Actually, she probably couldn't deal with another fight with her parents, period. They were just too draining.

Dislodging her tongue from the roof of her mouth, Layla whispered, "Thanks."

"Dude, did you make breakfast?!"

Layla immediately plastered on a grin, and turned around to face Danny and Rose, the latter of which was still yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Yeah," Layla said, "Warren made breakfast for us, which was very nice of him."

"Awesome!" Danny exclaimed. Rose was still to sleepy to talk, so she merely smiled blithely and nodded her head. Glancing over at his older sister, he added, "And here I thought you were the only one who knew how to cook."

Turning her head, she met Warren's gaze and shrugged, straightening up and stepping away from the fridge. "I guess not."

* * *

Considering how it started, the weekend ended pretty well. She spent nearly all of her time with Danny and Rose, and spent chunks hanging out with Magenta, Zach, Ethan, and Warren. Twice Will took Layla and her siblings out to dinner, and once with his parents in tow. She suspected, though she never asked, that Josie had made her son bring them along because she knew something was up in the Williams' household.

Clover didn't come back until late Saturday night, around two in the morning. Layla made sure her siblings didn't wake up, but she sure as hell wasn't sleeping. She made her mother crash on the couch, purposefully ignoring the stench of booze that clung to her hair and skin. She was too drunk at that point, but Layla had every intention of giving that woman a piece of her mind when she sobered up the next morning.

As it turned out, that wasn't necessary. Clover was out of the house before Layla had a chance to wake up, and tacked some B.S. note on the fridge, claiming she was going to "pop by the animal shelter for an hour." She didn't come back until 1:34. A.M.

But, it was Monday now, which meant Layla would get the chance to go back to a place where she felt normal and could finally relax, if only for a few hours. Whoever thought high school could be synonymous to home?

"You sure you don't want to take Danny and Rose over to my house tonight? It's no big with my parents," Magenta said as the two juniors crossed the sea of students, all filing out to their next classes.

Layla rolled her eyes. "Mage, you've got three sisters and a brother of your own," she said, accidentally walking through a kid- he had some power that allowed him to walk through walls. "I'm sure your parents don't need to deal with another three kids, especially if they're not their own."

Now it was Magenta's turn to roll her eyes. "Please," she said, "They can handle it."

"We'll be fine, I swear," Layla said, walking over to her locker and entering in her combination. She opened the locker and pulled out her lunch, along with the books she'd need for the next two classes. "Besides, it's better if I take care of Danny and Rose on my own. If I keep moving them around, they'll probably get freaked out. And they don't need to get any more freaked out."

Magenta had already retrieved her books and waited patiently for her friend, her eyebrows crinkling together in concern. "Layla, Danny's going to be a freshman next year, remember? And Rose is in sixth grade. They're getting old enough that they should be able to handle this crap without your protection. Actually, from what I've seen, they're handling it _great_. I think you need to cut the two of them some slack."

Layla sighed and shut her locker door. "Can we talk about something else?" she asked as they began to make their way down to the cafeteria.

"Sure," Magenta said, shouldering her purple plaid messenger bag. "How are you and Will doing?"

Layla smiled briefly. "He's really been great through all of this."

That much was true. Once she had a chance, she pulled Will aside and told him the truth. She didn't hold back a single thing, and it felt great to get all of that off of her chest. And, of course, Will made it his top priority to make sure they had an awesome weekend and forgot all about their crazy parents.

She stopped thinking about her sweet and loveable boyfriend once they walked through the doors of the cafeteria. Everyone seemed to be giving a certain table a very wide berth. It didn't take long to figure out that the table in question was the same one Layla and Magenta had been sitting at for the past three years.

"Uh-oh," Magenta muttered under her breath. Their pace slowed down, and watched from far away as a familiar blonde guy leaned over their table, talking to Warren with a smirk on his face. Will was standing up, behind the blonde guy, waiting for the tiniest signal from his best friend to take this guy out. Ethan and Zach flanked either side of Will, the two looking just as serious.

"Isn't that…?" Layla said, trailing off in a whisper. Her grip tightened on her books and she sent her friend a sidelong look.

Magenta didn't meet her gaze as she said, "Eric Drake. Devastatingly hot, and just as devastatingly evil. What's this, the fourth time this month he's come out of hiding long enough to threaten Warren?"

"Fifth," Layla replied. "It's because of their parents."

"No," the shape-shifter said, "It's because of their _dads_."

Layla exhaled sharply through her nose, but didn't say anything else. Magenta wasn't wrong. Eric's father was the infamous Skele. There was something in his bones that made them as hard as steel, but were able to move at his slightest command and actually push through his skin and even grow to something akin to armor. He could also shoot his sharp spike-like bones from his body.

Skele was serving several life sentences of his own, just like Warren's father. Baron has suffered from a psychotic break and ended up blowing up three buildings and killing several hundred innocent bystanders. Skele, meanwhile, had held eighty people hostage and ended up impaling about seventy of them and killing 53. Because the two both needed special power-zapping jail cells, it was only logical that they would have adjacent jail cells. For whatever odd reason, this seemed to give Eric the idea that it was perfectly acceptable to pester Warren with never-ending conversations about their respective fathers.

It was never a smart idea to pester Warren about anything. Unless you were looking to sustain third-degree burns and a wicked all-over charred tan.

"Should we do something?" Magenta asked, propping her books against hip. "Like restrain Warren or duct tape Eric's mouth shut or something?"

Layla glanced over at Magenta. "I don't think there's anything that will be able to restrain Warren," she said, pushing her hair behind her ears. "And the same goes for Eric. No, I think we need to give them space. Warren's a good person. He knows better to do something stupid."

The words wee barely out of her mouth when Warren stood up suddenly and grabbed Eric with one hand by the collar of his shirt, dragging him several inches off of the floor. Will immediately sprang into action, grabbing Warren and pulling him away from Eric.

"What were you saying again?" Magenta asked, raising a thin eyebrow skeptically.

Sighing, Layla shrugged. "Oh, well," she said, looking over at her best female friend. "Will'll keep him from doing anything danger to… well, anyone. Everyone. Anybody that gets in the way of one of his fireballs."

"How many people do you think that'll be?" she asked, tilting her head to one side and squinting.

"Honestly, I don't know, and I don't want to know," Layla replied, smiling briefly when Warren released Eric, who backed off and headed to back to the 'bad guy' table. Will said something quietly, and Warren jerked away from him and stormed off, most likely to the library. Whenever Warren sulked or exploded, he hid in the library, a place rarely visited by the rest of the student population.

Magenta shifted her weight to her other hip and eyed the redhead with detached curiosity. "So… you going to try to safely disable the ticking bomb that is our hothead?" she asked, a bitter smirk curling up one side of her mouth.

Layla mumbled something indiscernible and handed her books and lunch over to Magenta. She wasn't particularly looking forward to this conversation, but she knew she was the only one qualified to deal with Warren when he was like this. Will was never good with emotions and talking about feelings, Zach was clueless half of the time, Ethan was still slightly afraid of him, and Magenta had been known to snap back when he got mouthy.

As she left the cafeteria and headed down the hallway in search of the library, she wondered to herself what Eric might've said to Warren to get him so angry. Warren had mellowed out quite a bit after becoming friends with the rest of the gang. This meant it usually took at least ten to fifteen minutes for him to start flinging fireballs and lifting people off of their feet.

He really was a charming guy.

Layla yawned tiredly as she walked into the empty library. She hadn't slept well the night before, or on Saturday night (no thanks to Clover), and sleeping on a couch on Friday night had not been one of her better choices.

Anymore, she was tired all the time but couldn't sleep a wink at night, just tossed and turned until she was beginning to drift off and then her alarm would go off. This had been going on for over a week, but she figured one day she'd crash and sleep in the entire day. Hopefully it'd be on a Saturday, so she wouldn't have to worry about missing school.

Walking through the library's many aisles, she admitted to herself that it probably wasn't the healthiest plan, but, at this point, it was all she had. Staying awake and taking care of her siblings were more important than sleeping a few measly hours.

By the time Layla reached the eighth aisle, she realized that Warren wasn't in the library. He was the only one that visited the library on any kind of regular basis, other than Sky High's computer lab teacher who would drag all the freshman out every year to go over the wonders of the Dewey Decimal System. But he wasn't here. She didn't hear him- normally, she could always hear him grumbling and muttering obscenities under his breath and accidentally singeing things because his hands were so hot.

There wasn't any noise. She could probably hear a pin drop, it was that quiet in here. It was kind of creepy, in a dusty, never used kind of way. Especially when she considered the fact that she was all alone in this little library.

In fact, she reasoned to herself, it would probably be best if she got going. Now. Just so she could find out where Warren was, and hopefully keep him from doing any major damage to the surrounding area.

"Well, well, well. Now who do we have here?"

Layla spun around, only to realize with a sudden burst of clarity that she was in a poorly lit, rarely visited library, cornered, facing none other than…

Eric Drake.

4

I am just rife with cliffhangers in this story! I ended up cutting out what would've been a pretty long scene right between Warren making breakfast and the Monday after, mostly because it was long and detracted from the storyline. Otherwise, this could've easily been another 3 pages longer.

I was wrong, this was shorter than Chapter 1, but it also took me _a lot_ longer to write. I got a little stuck and I had to spend some time on other things (like starting school again… yuck), which gave me time to consider how I was going to wrap this puppy up and what I would do with Chapter 4. Luckily for you guys, I think this means Chapter 4 will come out much sooner! Yay! Because I feel guilty!

Anyway, hoped this kept you guys happy… for now. ;)


	5. Getting Down to Business

Hello again! Here's the anticipated Chapter 4, in which we finally get to find out what's up with poor little Warren. Who's neither little or in any condition that could be considered poor, even if he's not looking too great at the moment.

I know, I know, it's taken freakin' _forever_ to finish, and I (maybe) kinda forgot what, exactly, I was going to do with this chapter. But no worries! I did actually complete it! Eventually!

XD

(Okay, yeah, I suck. Majorly.)

$4$

_And if I try to save him,  
__My whole world could cave in  
__It just ain't right.  
__No, it just ain't right._

- "Beautiful Disaster," by Kelly Clarkson

* * *

**Present Time**

"And the moral of this story is that you beat the stuffing out of one another to… prove a point?" Layla asked, effectively summarizing the ten-minute-long story into one sentence. She was still sitting on the coffee table, but Warren had moved and was now sitting up straight on the couch. He looked a little tired and worse for wear, but she'd seen him in worse condition. Like last week, for example.

Warren tried to glare at her, but it was a pretty weak glare, even for him. He was clearly in need of a nice long nap and a cup of tea. And possibly a few Tylenol. "It wasn't just to prove a point," he said, his voice low and gravelly from his apparent tiredness. "It was more complicated than that."

Layla arched a slender eyebrow. "You know, when Will and I were little," she said, picking at the hem of her towel, "Sometimes the boys in our grade would get into little scuffles. I was curious, and I would ask Will why they were fighting, and he would always say it was 'complicated.' As I got older, I eventually realized that 'complicated' was just a guy way of saying that they were fighting over a girl."

Snorting, he looked away from her and mumbled, "Yeah, not in this case."

This time, both her eyebrows rose significantly. "Really?" she asked, disbelief leaking into her voice. "Because I heard in the locker room that Eric has a thing for somebody, but no one knows who. I was wondering if that had something to do with this fight."

He grunted in response, and Layla added, "Personally, I kind of thought he had a crush on Magenta, but that's just me."

As she said this, she was gauging Warren's face for any kind of reaction. She was rewarded for her efforts to watch his head snap back and glare her down with enraged black eyes that had lost any hint of sleepiness.

"You think the person Eric might like is _Magenta_?" he said, tightening his hands into fists until his knuckles went white. After three years, Layla knew that was one big sign that meant Warren was about to start lighting things on fire. Or, at the very least, singeing the upholstery.

Layla sat up a few inches straighter and glared right back. "No," she said, "Of course not. I just knew it had to with _a_ girl, and since you weren't even admitting that much, I needed some way of getting you to do so."

Warren's glare didn't lessen any, but his hands did eventually relax. He eyed her suspiciously and asked, "Since when did you get so crafty? I thought you were too nice to screw around with people's heads?"

She shifted uncomfortably and adjusted her towel once more. "I don't like doing it," she admitted, sounding slightly sheepish, "But I need to know what's going on with you and Eric. Yes, I'm aware you did tell me about the fight itself, but if there's some girl that you two are fighting over, she has just as much right to know about it, even if this doesn't pertain to what's been going on the past week."

"Who said we're fighting over her?" Warren asked. She didn't miss the defensive tone; clearly, he was hiding something. Again. "What if I'm just defending her honor?"

Layla snickered. "A guy only defends a girl's honor if he's her brother. Or, if he's in love with her and the other guy's badmouthing her. And if Eric likes this girl, I highly doubt he'll be insulting her." Arching an eyebrow, she pretended to regard Warren with mock suspicion. "Unless _you_ were the badmouthing her, but then you wouldn't be defending her honor, he would be."

Warren just glared back stonily. "I wasn't badmouthing her," he said firmly. "And there was no _her_."

"Sure there wasn't."

Sighing, Warren finally broke eye contact with her, opting to stare pointedly at the coffee table. "I told you the damn story, hippie," he said, his voice gruff. He probably could've said it nicer to her, but she knew the grumpy 'tude was just his way of putting up walls.

"So that's it?" Layla asked, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. "That's all you're going to tell me? You got into a fight with Eric? But I can't know why you got into this messy tussle?"

"I told you, it's complicated," he said, gingerly peeling off his beaten and torn leather jacket. "And if you want to know so bad, why don't you just go ask Eric? After all, you guys are so chummy anymore."

Layla's full lips automatically turned down into a deep frown, stung. She knew Warren to always be a little on the recalcitrant side, but there was no reason for him to be intentionally cruel. He knew good and well that she hardly thought of Eric as friend. He was actually kind of a nuisance, but he was helpful. And that was the only reason she chose to talk to him. Because he offered to help her.

Even if Warren was going to be a jerk, it didn't mean she had to put up with it. "Fine," she said, huffing as she stood up and walked around the couch. "If you're going to act like that, you patch yourself up."

"Fine then," Warren snapped, sitting up straight.

Rolling her eyes, Layla stalked up the stairs. Maybe it was better this way. She could get changed, and give him the time he obviously needed to cool off and stop acting like such a humongous ass.

She walked into her room, closing the door behind her and finally stripped out of the towel. Warren could act like a child all he wanted. She was still going to get her answer.

She pulled on clothes at random, a comfy pale yellow t-shirt with 'little miss sunshine' emblazoned on the front with a cute ball of sun-girl, and a pair of her favorite holey whitewashed jeans. She fixed her hair so it was more securely clipped back and sighed. Guys were so… _insufferable_. As long as she could remember, every guy she ever spoke to had some issue or another about just plain _talking_.

And was it really such a hard concept? Person A talks, Person B listens. Person B responds, Person A listens… It was something very basic.

She left her room, stopping in the guest room to grab an extra shirt and a pair of jeans for Warren. Even if he was being obstinate, she didn't want him bleeding all over her couch. Her mother wouldn't have _too_ much of a cow when she saw that- whenever she got back home, that was.

Layla jogged down the stairs, trying to push down the anger that was bubbling up inside of her. It didn't help that she was still pretty pissed about the last week and a half- not to mention her still-fresh injuries- and the fact that Warren was kind of acting like a jerk was not helping his case.

"Listen, I still don't know what's going on," she said when she reached the couch. She was going to say more when she got distracted. Warren had got up and was in the process of removing his grimy t-shirt. Layla faltered, her brain hitting the brakes and her hormones kicked into overdrive. It just wasn't _fair_. He was all muscle- wide shoulders, melon-sized biceps, and killer washboard abs. She made it a very important point not to act like the rest of the flighty, flirty girls in her grade that drooled over every guy they met, but she still had to admit: she was a red-blooded 16-year-old female. And Warren? He was _definitely_ a red-blooded male.

He just also happened to be a very good _friend_.

Warren turned around to face her, apparently unaware that it was entirely inappropriate for him to be just standing around like that, shirtless, covered in dirt stains and smudges of grease and who the hell knew what else, in her house. With no one else around.

"I _told_ you what's going on, hippie!" Warren said, his jaw tightening. When he did that with his jaw, there was this neat little muscle that jumped in his strong neck. But there was no reason for her to be staring at his neck, and therefore no reason for her notice something like that. "Haven't you been listening?"

When his words sunk in, Layla was almost grateful. When he was being an ass she could forget that his was standing way too close to her, shirtless. "I've been listening just fine," she replied, her chocolate brown eyes sparking. "But what you're saying- _why_ you did it- that I _still _don't get. Because you're not _telling_ me."

"I'm _telling you_ everything you need to know," he said, speaking slowly and clearly through his teeth. He took half a step closer to her, so they were practically touching chests, and act that seemed so much more intimate when he was shirtless. "That's _it_."

Layla's jaw dropped open, flabbergasted at his gall. "You- you are unbelievable right now," she said, her slim hands clenching into fists. "You cannot shut me out like this! Who is this girl that you can't even tell _me_ about her?"

He shook his head and laughed, like _he _was the one that couldn't believe _her_. He eyed her, studying her reaction closely. Finally, he seemed to give up, muscular shoulders drooping with defeat. "Screw it," he grumbled, quickly reaching out and, in one smooth move, delved his hand into her wet mass of hair, knocking out the clip, and dragged her closer.

And kissed her.

$4$

Okay, it's ridonkulously short, but at least I finished it, amirite? I know I'm a damned tool, but I actually _did _like the way it turned out. And, really, what more could I possibly ask for? I know the 'Present' chapters were going to be short. I was just kinda hoping they were going to break at least 2,000 words each time. :\

But pleasing me isn't as important. I hope you guys are happy I FINALLY posted Chapter 4! And now we get to wait for Chapter _5!_

(yaaaaaay…. DX)


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